


Give Us More Time

by gremlinquisitor (suchanadorer)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Coma, F/F, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/gremlinquisitor
Summary: After the Inquisition's narrow escape at Haven, the Herald remains in a coma. Cassandra goes to her tent to get some things off her chest.





	Give Us More Time

Cassandra lingers by the front of the tent, waiting as the Chantry sister and healer make their way out. They each offer her a deferential nod, the Elven healer folding her hands together in front of her as the last of her magic flickers out from between her fingers. She watches them go their separate ways through the camp, and only when they are out of sight does she make her way inside, careful to pull the tent closed after her to retain what little heat they’ve managed here deep in the Frostback Mountains.

This is not how she’s used to seeing the Herald: still and frail, dark circles under her eyes. Her hands are folded on her chest, rising and falling too little as she takes slow, shallow breaths, and Cassandra notes that someone has placed her left hand below her right, all but smothering the unnatural green light that comes from the Mark.

There is little other light in the cabin, one lantern left burning low on the table. Cold air cuts through the tent and the flame leaps and twists, throwing deep shadows over the Herald’s face. It steals some of the softness that Cassandra is so used to seeing there, in her wide eyes as she listens intently at the War Table, in the warm smiles she gives soldiers and refugees alike as she passes, leaving hope and inspiration in her wake. Instead she looks stern, her mouth seeming to frown and her brow to furrow, as if displeased by this entire business, and Cassandra can only agree. She’s tried to keep herself occupied, but time and again her mind wanders back to the image of the Herald collapsing in the snow, silent and unmoving when she and Cullen reached her. They carried her back, and then they waited, and still they wait. The healers promise that she will wake up, but they cannot say when. Cassandra’s patience with them grows thin, but she knows that this is in part due to her lack of patience with herself.

“I should never have left you to do this alone,” she sighs as she sinks down onto the stool next to the bed. In her mind, she knows that there is little she could have done; swords and shields did not serve to keep the Templars from being buried under snow, and one more would have helped just as little when the Herald brought a mountain down on top of Haven to try to stop Corpyheus. In her heart, however, she regrets leaving the Herald’s side, whether she could have helped or not. There are other reasons to stay with someone.

“You have defied my expectations at every turn since you woke up after the explosion, and I-- I need you to do that now as well. They tell me that you will wake up, but I can see in their eyes that they do not know for sure.”

She sets her elbows on her knees and settles her feet in the damp, rocky ground, letting her head fall forward. It’s not so warm in the tent, yet her armor is tight and uncomfortable, too much weight and structure around her body. The Sister and the healer did not ask what she wanted in the tent, but the relief she’d felt at being allowed to enter in silence is gone, along with all her own certainty about her purpose. Just seeing the Herald, looking at her again and being near her had seemed like enough, but as the silence swells around them, Cassandra seeks to fill the space with words, as if to justify her presence.

“You are not what I anticipated,” she continues, rolling her shoulders and huffing a little at her own past misjudgments. “I thought you were a criminal, but you have proven yourself to be honest and true at every opportunity. You are strong, stronger than any of us thought…”

The sentence falls apart in her mouth, the words unable to stand up to the sight before her. Cassandra draws a ragged breath and glances at the tent flap.

“You have become very important to me, more than I anticipated when we found you. I have come to realize that I trust you, and rely on your judgment. You are a sound warrior, and I--”

Again she falters, this time unsure how to continue. There is only so much to be said about prowess in battle and the quickness of her mind, and Cassandra lacks the vocabulary to speak on softer things, those subjects that she enjoys most in her books, but always considered contained to the realm of fantasy.

“I enjoy talking with you. I suppose that is why I’m here now as well. Being around you calms my mind, and you are a good listener.” Her eyes flick up to look at the Herald’s face as she is aware of the irony of making such a statement now, but the Herald remains still. “I feel like I can talk to you about almost anything, and you understand without judgment. I do not know what has happened in your life to make you who you are, but… I hope to have the opportunity to learn, to get to know more about you.”

She pushes herself to her feet, nervous energy sparking under her skin, the words tripping an avalanche inside her; she fights for control on instinct, even as she wants these thoughts to be set free into the world so that they no longer weigh on her heart.

“I do not want to do this without you, so you must wake up. Even if you were to wake tomorrow and find the Mark gone from your hand, I would still want you to lead us, and I would still want to follow you. Your grace and poise inspire all of us, even me. Perhaps especially me. To make you smile, to have you look at me as you do… these are not feelings I would have looked for in a place such as this, but they are here all the same.”

The silence feels lighter when she blows out a breath, turning from where she’d been pacing to look at the Herald again. She steps around the stool to stand at the side of the bed, setting her fingers lightly on the back of the Herald’s hand. The warmth she feels there is encouraging, and her eyes fall closed.

“The Maker would be lucky to have someone like you at His side, but I hope He doesn’t realize that yet. He has created a miracle with you beyond even the Mark on your hand, and even if it is selfish, I still want more time. Please, give us more time.”

There is a hitch in the even cadence of the Herald’s breathing, a pause as she holds in a drawn breath. Cassandra opens her eyes, panic closing like a hand around her throat as she looks to the Herald’s face. Her eyelids twitch and cracked, dry lips part.

“ _Seeker._ ” It’s barely a whisper, harsh air formed as best she can after days of not speaking or moving, but it may be the most beautiful thing Cassandra has ever heard. She gasps, one hand coming up to her mouth, the other still just brushing the Herald’s skin. 

“I will fetch the healers at once,” she says, turning to leave.

“No.” There is a soft sound of hair shifting against a pillow, and when Cassandra looks back, she meets the Herald’s gaze, drowsy but clear. “Stay, Cassandra.” She blinks slowly, glancing at the stool by the bed, which Cassandra gladly returns to, her arms and legs trembling at the sound of the Herald saying her name with such softness. “Give us more time.”


End file.
